


Let it Hurt

by Gremkt



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Warden Carver Hawke, death of an unnamed character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28911501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gremkt/pseuds/Gremkt
Summary: The Wardens know they live a dangerous life but it doesn’t make it easier when things go wrong. Carver struggles when his party returns smaller than when it set out and the loss of a fellow Warden.
Relationships: Alistair & Carver Hawke, Alistair/Carver Hawke
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Let it Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this with Carver/Alistair in mind but you can also totally read it platonically if that’s what you prefer <3

Being a Grey Warden was never a safe path in life. There were always risks, and while they were skilled, trained, some days a party returned smaller than when it had left. Sometimes, their enemies were quicker. 

Today had been one of those days, a party of three setting out and only two returning alive. 

It wasn’t the first time a Warden had been lost since Carver’s joining but it was the first where he had been present. He had gone through the formalities on returning, briefing the Warden Commander on what had happened, the ambush, how quick it had been. How the pair of them had been too slow to help. And as soon as the opportunity arose, he had excused himself to the training yard and that was where he stayed now, hitting the dummy as hard as he could with each swing of his sword. 

“Carver,” somebody said behind him. He ignored them. He wasn’t in the mood for talking, for people in general. He just wanted to be alone with his thoughts, free to hit something until he didn’t have to think anymore. 

“ _Carver_ ,” they repeated and he turned to glare at whoever it was.

Alistair. Of course. 

“What?” Carver snapped at him. “I’m busy.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Alistair asked as Carver swung his sword again. The target stand splintered slightly at the contact, a shard of wood falling loose as it tilted. It should have been satisfying but it just left him feeling even more empty. 

“No,” he said, sheathing his sword. He reached for a bow instead, storming his way across the yard to the archery targets. He knew Alistair was following but he didn’t acknowledge him. Let him follow, if he wanted. It wouldn’t change anything. 

The first arrow missed, clattering useless into the ground beside it. The second hit firmly, embedding itself in the straw. A third quickly followed, and a fourth. 

Carver didn’t know what he was aiming for, he just knew that if he kept his mind busy, maybe he could keep it from thinking, push away the ache in his chest. He should have done more, been quicker. Maybe he could have changed what happened. 

But he hadn’t. Once again he hadn’t been able to help. More people had died, people he cared about, because he hadn’t been quick enough to help, hadn’t done enough to save them. 

He went to grab another arrow, his fingers grasping uselessly at the now empty space where they had been.

“Here,” Alistair said, holding out a full quiver. Carver briefly met his eyes, looking away as he took it. He took another shot but his rhythm was already interrupted and he paused, the next arrow pointed loosely at the ground, his dangling loosely in his grip. 

“What’s the point?” he asked and Alistair gave him a twisted half smile. “Why do we try so hard if people just die anyway?”

“Because it’s worse if we don’t,” Alistair said. “If we didn’t try, more people would die. At least we can help some of them. I’ve tried and tried and I still don’t know how to make it hurt less though, let me know if you manage to find something.”

“I don’t know why I get to survive while they don’t,” Carver said, accepting the hug Alistair offered him, his weapons abandoned as Alistair held him close. His breath caught in his chest, the ache still growing, threatening to grow bigger and bigger inside him, like a wave trying to drag him down. “It keeps happening and I can’t do anything to save them.” 

“I know,” Alistair said and though Carver hadn’t said it, he knew they both recognised he wasn’t just talking about today. His losses were no secret between them, as much as he didn’t like talking about them, just like the losses Alistair had suffered. Ostagar had not been kind to either of them, and in many ways, that had only been the start. 

He didn’t know what was scarier, the idea of it hurting as much every time he couldn’t save somebody, or the idea that it might stop hurting, that he’d feel it enough to get used to it. 

“It’s ok to hurt,” Alistair said. “We all know it can happen, that any one of us can fall in battle but it still hurts. I know I’ll miss him too.”

Carver closed his eyes, his face pressed into Alistair’s shoulder. He tried not to think about the elf's pale face, his lifeless body as they carried him home. The grief still sat in his chest, trying to grow but Alistair’s arms were tight around him, holding him, keeping the feeling contained, keeping it smaller than it wanted to be. It helped more than the sword or the arrows had. 

“In death, sacrifice, I guess,” he said finally, stepping back from Alistair. His face was wet, though he hadn’t realised any tears had fallen. 

“We all know it can happen but it still hurts,” Alistair said again. “They’ll have a ceremony tomorrow most likely. And won’t be forgotten. We won’t let him be forgotten.”

“I know he won’t,” Carver said. He knew he wouldn’t be forgetting any time soon and he wouldn’t be alone in that. “I need a drink. Will you come?” 

“Course I will. I don’t think you’ll be alone anyway, though,” Alistair said with a gentle smile as he put the weapons away. 

Being a Grey Warden was never a safe path in life, but it still didn’t hurt any less when the danger happened. And when it did, Carver was grateful for the support of the other Wardens around him. 

**Author's Note:**

> I feel a little bad about using this poor elf and his death for the emotional suffering of the other characters without actually giving him any other character development at all but I also didn’t want to develop a character purely to kill them so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> This fic also features the return of the headcanon that Carver doesn’t fight with a bow but absolutely can use one and can do it quite well provided he’s not expected to be quick because he used to shoot as a way of regulating his emotions 🥰


End file.
